Disclaimer: Psylocke and everything she's thinking about is Marvel Comics's property! Used without permission, but not for profit. Archive at will (just whip me off an e-mail saying "I'm archiving this! It'll be at such-and-such a page! Thanks!"). Really. You DON'T HAVE TO ASK. Save yourself an e-mail. The answer's yes anyway. :) Do not pop-up or MST, please.

Don't think, Betsy...don't think. Just put your shoes and shirt and sweatpants on and grab your katana and take it into the living room. Practice. Let the katana slice the air and whistle as it goes. Become absorbed in your practicing. Just please, please don't slip. Don't let the mental barrier, the thing that cuts your powers off from the world and you off from others down. Don't let it weaken, even a little bit, or the Shadow King will be free and it'll be all your fault!

I just wish I knew what Warren was thinking right now. He's standing and watching me like I'm a creature from another planet. Hasn't he ever seen me practice before? What am I doing wrong this time that he has to gawk at me? I'll ask him aloud, I suppose. What else can I do? I can't psi-scan him. "Warren, why are you staring at me?"

"Er, Betts, you seem to be having a bit of a problem with that katana...why don't I take it away and you can exercise without it today?"

"What KIND of "problem" do I "seem" to be having?"

"Well, for starters, I don't think the purpose of a katana is to slice your leg open to the bone..."

I look down, feel the hot, sticky blood running down my leg for the first time. Oh, no! What happened? I suppose I was so absorbed in my thinking that I forgot the exercises. It was really supposed to be the other way around. The exercises were supposed to stop me from thinking. What went WRONG??! The cut hurts, and it's not wonder, because Warren described it perfectly. I can see the bone through the clean, deep cut.

"Betts, stop staring at that. Let's get you to a hospital." I look up at him. "Why would I need a hospital?"

"Honey, you're spouting blood. That'll get infected. D'you want to die?"

"That's just it, Warren. Maybe I do."

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